Slow Burn
by HedwigBlack
Summary: "I know now what happens when I stop playing the hero... in the end, everything is red. In the end, the world burns." Voldemort wins. Harrymort. For Sophy


**This is for Sophy for GGE. One of your requests was Harry/Voldemort and I honestly don't know if I pulled it off or if this is what you had in mind, but this is where that plotbunny went... anyway... I hope you enjoy. :) **

* * *

In the end, everything is red.

In the end, the world burns.

* * *

I always believed it would all come crashing down in a wave of green. I believed that death would find me in an all consuming emerald flash, just like in my nightmares. Just like in my memory.

Perhaps there would be a scream. Perhaps Hermione would cry and Ron would struggle, cursing up a storm. Perhaps it wouldn't matter because I'd be dead before I hit the ground.

But it turns out that none of those things happen. It turns out it ends with my wand thrown high in the air. He disarms me with a flick of his own and he shakes his head and sighs even as the Great Hall erupts in cries of horror and pain. It was so simple. Too simple. His disappointment is almost worth it.

Almost.

* * *

The students are marched out, herded like cattle toward the dungeons. I catch Hermione's eye as she holds her head high, a Death Eater pushing her forward with a hand at the back of her beautiful Muggleborn neck. I mouth the words_ I'm sorry_ to her but I don't think she sees.

_Sorry_ won't do any good anyway, and soon I only have eyes for the pile of bodies in the corner even as Bellatrix begins the task of taking me captive. They are all red-haired and wide-eyed and dead. Ron…George…Arthur… all dead. All save for Ginny who is curled up into her mother's lifeless arms and I am so bloody sorry. I hope one day, she will live to forgive me. I hope one day, she will be able to remember me fondly.

They do not have a dungeon for me. Instead, the Astronomy tower is my new prison, and once again I'm bound and helpless against the wall watching everything fall apart. It was always meant to end like this, one way or another. I know that now.

But it doesn't make it hurt any less.

* * *

The stars have all died out, and now, only his scarlet eyes burn bright in the darkness. They laugh at me, as I struggle, hands behind my back and forced to my knees exactly where he wants me.

I can see the flames lick at the night sky as the Forbidden Forest is set alight. The Thestrals are silhouetted against the blaze, their frayed wings beating away the smoke. They will have to find a new home now. I'm sad to see them go.

He comes to stand before me, all billowing robes and pale, cold skin, and he is triumphant, but even now he measures his words carefully. He is purposeful and in control and beautiful. And as he leans down to look me in the eye, I see a shadow of his former self. I see it flicker over his features before he opens his mouth to speak. I think he knows I caught him, because he smiles.

"There was a time when I believed you would be the ruin of me, Harry Potter," he says. And suddenly his long fingers are caressing the scar on my forehead, tracing the lightning, sending a bolt of pain into my skull. I wonder if he can feel my blood boil beneath his touch. I wonder if he can feel at all. "There was a time I'd almost given up hope. But I know better now."

With that, he turns on his heel and leaves me to ponder my circumstances, to feel the devastation of knowing that all my efforts have been wasted. The air, it stings my eyes, my face, my lungs and the ash falls so gently, so quietly from the sky wrapping the grounds in a winding sheet of burning snow.

I've honestly never seen anything more beautifully melancholy, made all the more tragic because I am responsible. I know now what happens when I stop playing the hero- the world brands my name into the galaxy for a brief moment like a cigarette burn, but it will fade and soon it will be nothing but stardust swept beneath the rug. It all fades eventually. It's my only consolation.

But the tears still come and it is only salt to the wound. I almost miss the way his fingers brand me. I almost miss the distraction.

Almost.

* * *

Every night is the same. He comes to me and gloats in silky hushed tones. It's almost like a lullaby, and he says my name with a reverence that doesn't make sense, yet still has a way of filling me with awe.

And then _she's_ there.

He tells her to make a pet of me, and she does her best, but Bellatrix is not a gentle soul. She does not have the subtlety or the patience and soon the harsh bite of her nails digging into my waist are replaced with his cold hands, and his cool breath against the bare skin of my chest. It makes me shiver, and I almost hate myself for giving up.

Only I really don't. I wish I did, but I don't.

* * *

It's a slow burn, this seduction.

It's razorblade kisses and Bellatrix's jealous whimpers and my self-satisfied smirks at her over the Dark Lord's shoulder. She sulks and I sigh and he groans just loud enough for me to hear, like thunder rolling against my lightning-struck forehead and he tells me that I might just be the ruin of him yet.

I don't know if this is true, but I assure you he has ruined me.

He has ruined me completely.


End file.
